No Stone Unturned
by AgentAshor
Summary: For my husband of sixteen years. May we have many more happy times together.
1. Chapter 1

I lived in Cyrodiil, working as a servant in a large manor owned by a high-ranking Imperial family. They often had guests come to stay with them - politicians and other rich people - but there were so many I could never keep track of them all.

They always arrived with an entourage of servants, chests, and gifts that they would offer to the family who would ooh and ahh over such wonderful things. Then my master would pass them to me, telling me loudly to put them in a place of great honor. Instead, I would put them in the junk room, the place where all such gifts went.

I stacked decorative plates onto shelves, dropped silver daggers into chests, piled gems in lockboxes according to type, all the while slowly drawing my fingers over the riches, my eyes shining in envy. How I longed to own such beautiful, precious things!

Over time, I realized that there was so much wealth in this room that my master would not miss anything. I began to slip small things into the folds of my skirts - a garnet here, a few coins there - and hiding them under a loose stone in my small, shabby room. At nights, when I was supposed to be asleep, I would take these things out and line them up, admiring the shiny trinkets in my possession.

As I became better and better at hiding these items on my person, I took to stealing little things from the bedrooms of our guests as well. I always took things that would easily be overlooked - a plain silver ring, a couple of coins - any item that a husband would wave a dismissive hand at if his wife ever asked him if he'd seen it.

As time went on, I became bolder and bolder. I could no longer stop myself. I stole necklaces, sapphire rings, and coin purses. I was a slave to the thief inside me, the one that craved that rush of adrenaline and longed to see if I could continue without getting caught.

And I did get caught, eventually. But not by the person I expected to.

His name was Rynjus Agareth, a large, imposing Nord. He was my master's bodyguard and well-respected by the entire house. He was all the women - and a few of the men - of the manor ever talked about - servants and ladies alike - and even I had to admit that I had never seen a man so massive, with such broad shoulders and chiseled features. He rarely ever spoke but when he did, his deep voice was soft and soothing.

All of the servants gossiped that he and the mistress of the house had a secret history, one that the master may have suspected, but had never spoken of. I did not know if this was something that Rynjus had willingly been a part of, or if he had been seduced by my mistress. Rumors of her exploits - all true - had been legendary.

Regardless, on that day, I had just finished straightening the guest room when I spied a beautiful gold necklace in a bowl on the desk. I checked the doorway. No one was there. I carefully reached in and pulled out the necklace, holding it in the candlelight. My breath caught as I studied the delicate chain and the loops and swirls engraved upon the pendant.

Then I dropped the necklace into the folds of my dress.

I heard someone clear his throat from the doorway. I froze, hoping it was not anyone of note. How quickly I would be sent away if it were!

But when I turned, I saw Rynjus, his enormous body taking up the entire doorway.

"I saw you, Eira," he said calmly.

"Saw me do what?" I asked innocently, surprised that he even knew my name. The necklace laid heavy against my thigh.

"You stole that necklace. Put it back before we both get into trouble."

I stepped toward Rynjus and met his eye. Then I told him quite clearly: "No."

He raised his eyebrows in shock. I do not believe anyone had ever stood up to him before.

"No?"

"If you do not let me pass, I shall tell the master about your affair with his mistress."

I had no idea if this bit of gossip was actually true, but I was relieved to see his body slacken slightly. It seemed like an eternity before he pressed his lips together into a firm line and stepped aside to allow me to leave with my prize.


	2. Chapter 2

From then on, Rynjus was always watching me.

I could scarce feed the fire or change the sheets or bring fresh washed linens to a guest's room without him eyeing me from his post. I could scarce refill a guest's cup or bring them refreshment without him watching me from behind my master. I could scarce do my own daily chores without Rynjus making excuses to leave so that he could follow me from one room to the next.

Weeks passed, then months. Every night when I lined up the jewelry and coins in my collection to admire them, I grew angry with Rynjus that it had been so long since I had added anything to my collection. The thief inside of me craved another shiny trinket and I had disobeyed.

The thief called to me again one day, begging me to take yet another tiny item - a simple gold ring, nothing of importance. I was about to drop it into the pocket of my skirt when who should appear?

Rynjus, the Nord.

"Put it back, Eira," he said softly from the doorway.

"Why should I?" I questioned defiantly. "These people have more than enough. It wouldn't be missed."

"If you are caught, I don't want to see you sold into slavery and sent away." He took a deep breath. "I die each time you do this because this house would not be the same without you."

My lips pulled downward into a frown. "What do you mean, Rynjus?"

He came inside, backing me into a wall. "You are the light in otherwise cloudy days and I would not see it extinguished."

So he had not followed me to catch me in the act - he had followed me to make sure that I wouldn't get caught!

I had no words to respond.

Rynjus leaned in and kissed me.


	3. Chapter 3

The bits of physical affection I gave him were not out of love. They were out of insurance that I would not be stopped. Anyone who accused me of stealing would have had to answer to Rynjus and he was intimidating enough to stop any free talk among the servants that might have flown throughout the manor.

I allowed him free reign of my lips and the rest of my body, and the thief inside me stole to her heart's content.

The only problem with this arrangement, however, were the rumors about our "relationship". These flew quite freely and eventually found their way to the mistress of the house. She was not pleased.

When she confronted me, there were no pretty, honeyed words - merely harsh accusations from a sharp tongue. She apparently felt for Rynjus what I did not and could not stand the thought of another holding onto his heart.

So she beat me with her fists, called me _harlot_ and _whore_ , and threw me from the only home I had ever known.

I had nothing, no pretty things to sell and no septims to survive.

Rynjus found me a few days later, scrubbing tables in a filthy tavern. He had resigned from his post as a bodyguard - despite the mistress's insistence that he stay - and had managed to find the treasures in my room before his departure.

These he gave to me, then held my hands and whispered: "Come to Skyrim with me."

There wasn't anything that I wouldn't do for a chance at a new life!

I sold it all, all of my gems and jewelry, buying passage on a leaky cargo ship for Rynjus and myself.


	4. Chapter 4

I arrived in Skyrim by shipwreck, with nothing but the tattered clothes on my back. Rynjus was nowhere to be seen among the wreckage.

Scavengers had already begun to set upon the debris. Since most of the crew had been thrown from the ship during the storm, there was no one to stop them. Unsure if they had yet seen me, I quietly crawled inland, moving slowly and steadily away from the bandits, thankful that it was a dark, moonless night.

Too late did I find myself at the feet of one of those smelly bandits. He wrestled me to the ground before I could shout out - who would help me even if I had been able to? - and tried to take me there. I kneed him in the groin then struggled away, crawling across the coarse sand.

The mountains were so close, so close. I didn't care if they were filled with wild beasts, as long as I could escape. In all my charmed life in Cyrodiil with Rynjus constantly at my back, never before had I worried about someone trying to hurt me.

My hand fell upon a steel dagger and I grasped onto it so tightly my knuckles turned white. Hidden by the crashing waves, I did not hear the man's heavy footsteps until he was nearly on top of me. Turning, I closed my eyes and stabbed at him with the dagger. Warm, wet blood splattered onto my clothing, face, and hair.

I could hear him gasping, trying to call out to his friends, but his lips uttered nothing except a ghostly moan. When I finally opened my watery, tear-filled eyes, the bandit lay motionless, the dagger plunged into his throat. I sat back, studying my shaking, blood-streaked hands and releasing a stifled gasp and cry, only just processing how fortunate I was to still draw breath.

Rynjus would have said it was the divine intervention of the Gods, but I knew better. My survival had been nothing more than luck.

Clumsily, I rummaged through the man's pockets and found little more than a coin purse and a silver ring. I yanked the dagger from his throat and wiped it onto his clothing to clean it and, without looking behind me, ran as fast as I could into the mountains.


	5. Chapter 5

After a week of walking, hitching rides with travellers, and sleeping in barns or in caves, I made my way to Riften, with no other reason than it was the farthest south I could go before the mountainous border stopped me. Besides, all of the bandit's money had been spent on the way, including the silver ring that I had pawned in Windhelm. I kept the steel dagger for protection.

Riften was a backwater dump compared to the large, glamorous Imperial cities of Cyrodiil, but unlike those grand cities where the scum was well hidden behind the big gates and palace walls, the scum of Riften were in the streets, in the alleys, and at the docks. The scum of Riften were everywhere, waiting for an opportunity to become better acquainted with your coin purse.

It was in the Riften marketplace that I met Brynjolf, a tall Nord with shifty eyes and a kind voice.

"Lass," he said, "how would you like to become rich?"

The thief inside of me had not forgotten all of the wonderful trinkets in the manor's storage room back in Cyrodiil and my fingers twitched at the thought of something I could put in the pocket of my tattered clothes.

"Steal the ring from Madesi and plant it on Brand-Shei without getting caught. Then we'll talk."

An initiation!

With simply a nod and the lockpick Brynjolf had slipped into my hand, I edged my way to Madesi's stall while Brynjolf gathered everyone at the other side of the marketplace with one lie or another. The crowd had to know it was a ruse, and yet they surrounded him, listening to every charismatic word. If I had not been given a task, I would have listened with deep interest, too.

Taking a quick peek into the stall, I spied the strongbox on the second shelf, pushed back into the shadows. Looking carefully around for any guards and market latecomers, I pulled the box toward me and thrust the lockpick into the lock, slowly turning it side to side until I heard the telltale _click_. The lid sprung open. What luck I did not break the pick!

I sucked in my breath as the sun caught the gleam of the silver ring. In that moment, transfixed by the little trinket nestled upon the red velvet, I had almost forgotten why I was here in this stall. A part of me wanted to snatch up the ring and run away with my treasure, but the thief inside urged me on.

With trembling fingers, I crouched low, toward Brand-Shei who, luckily, stood outside the crowd next to some large crates that had been stacked near a bridge leading to the marketplace. He, like the others, was still focused on Brynjolf.

I had never planted anything on someone before. Stolen, yes, but planted, no. Would Brand-Shei be able to hear my fearful, ragged breathing behind the crates? Would he be able to feel me plucking at his pocket?

With bated breath, I reached out for the folds of fabric and dropped the ring inside. Brand-Shei suddenly shifted from one foot to the other and I nearly fell backward from fright. I backed out from behind the crates and crossed the marketplace.

I did it.

I had actually done it.

My eyes met Brynjolf's and I lifted my eyebrows, silently informing him that the deed was done. He smiled slyly and quickly dismissed the grumbling crowd. I took a step toward Brynjolf but he shook his head.

 _Wait there,_ he seemed to say.

So I took my time, pretending to examine some of the trinkets at a stall, but watching Brynjolf out of the corner of my eye carefully. I wasn't about to let him slide away after doing his dirty work. The least he could do was give me a few coins for my troubles.

From the other side of the market, Madesi let out a howl of anger.

"My box!" he yelled. "It's been broken into!"

The Riften guards came running, closing off any escape from the area. People glared at each other accusingly. I caught a glimpse of Brand-Shei who looked slightly bemused but mostly unconcerned. From the other side of the market, Brynjolf winked at me.

One by one, the guards made everyone turn out their pockets, Madesi right behind them to examine anything shiny that happened to appear. Eventually, the guards reached Brand-Shei. One of them dug around in his pockets and slowly pulled out the ring. A confused expression crossed Brand-Shei's face. He looked around wildly, trying to figure out how the ring got into his pocket.

"That's it! That's my ring!" Medesi said.

"I...I don't know how it got there!" Brand-Shei cried. "Really, I don't!"

"Yeah, right." One of the other guards pushed Brand-Shei toward a bridge. "Let's go."

Just as quickly as the guards had appeared, they had left with their suspect.

I felt Brynjolf at my back - how he appeared so silently and suddenly I could not say - and his voice in my ear: "Nice job, lass."


	6. Chapter 6

Brynjolf took me under his wing, teaching me everything he knew to be a successful thief. I liked his gentle tone and the way he called me lass. It reminded me of the way Rynjus spoke to me - soft and delicate, as though we shared a deep secret.

After many months had gone by, there wasn't a door I couldn't unlock, a chest I couldn't pick, a person wandering the street I couldn't pickpocket, and a poor sap I couldn't hustle. My chest at the Thieves Guild was overflowing with other people's junk. I had so much now, but if I ever needed a few coins, all I had to do was find them in someone else's pocket.

It was here that I finally felt as though I had truly fallen in with my kind of people, the ones who also answered Nocturnal's call.


	7. Chapter 7

Not many more months had gone by when I was assigned a job to steal some gold trinket at the House of Clan Shatter-Shield in Windhelm.

I had broken in and found the gold horn without difficulty. I had just managed to stuff it under the folds of my tunic when I spotted something peculiar on a bookshelf in the hall.

It looked like any other shiny treasure at first: a gem, sparkly and rosy, already boxed in a pocket-sized gold case.

It seemed ridiculous to say aloud, but this unusual gem called to me, begging me to take it, as though Nocturnal herself had nodded her head in approval.

It was stuffed unceremoniously into the folds of my tunic, too.

When I returned, I showed the strange gem to Vex. Her normally sour demeanor became more pensive as she turned the jewel this way and that.

"What is it?" I asked her as she handed it back to me.

"It could be one of the Stones of Barenziah." She shrugged noncommittally and feigned disinterest. "Maybe."

"A Stone of Baringeeah?"

" _Barenziah_ ," she corrected sharply. "From _Queen_ _Barenziah's_ crown."

"What happened to the crown?"

Vex waved a hand dismissively. "The crown was stolen. The stones were pried off and sold throughout Skyrim."

I eyed the gem with more interest. "How much is it worth?" I envisioned counting stacks of septims and throwing the coins into my chest one by one while the others envied my good luck.

Vex laughed. "Nothing. A single gem isn't worth a septim."

"But it was part of a crown - "

"That's right," she cut in. " _Part_ of a crown. You'd need the whole set for them to be worth anything."

 _A whole set?_

"You'll never find them all," Vex continued, resting against some stacked crates. "Who knows where they are now."

"How many are there?" I asked, almost dreading her response.

Vex smirked.

"Twenty-four."


	8. Chapter 8

From that day forward, when I was not attending to Thieves Guild business, I was searching for the rest of the Stones of Barenziah.

I searched every single house I broke into, carefully taking note of dressers or shelves, hoping to find a few more on display. This yielded only one more - when I had staked out the living quarters of Jorrvaskr under the guise of joining the Companions. This I grabbed and stuffed into my hip purse when Kodlak turned his back for just a moment. I had been terrified to be discovered, as there was something quite off-putting about those guys.

After all of that, I only had two gems to show for my troubles. So what next?

 _I obviously wasn't thinking big enough,_ I reasoned as I laid on my bed in the Thieves Guild one night, staring at the damp ceiling and counting the drips of water. These gems were beautiful and even though they weren't part of a set, they were still sort of semi-precious on their own.

Who would want such a beautiful item that was mostly worthless - if nothing more than just to have?

Then it hit me.

I threw off my blankets, pulled on my boots - taking care not to wake anyone else - and quietly crept to the passageway leading up to the surface. Keeping to the shadows, I dodged a few guards and stopped in front of Mistveil Keep, my heart pounding.

If I were caught, this could go so badly for me. It was one thing to break into the Jarl's palace, it was another thing entirely to be caught carrying something out of there.

However, my intuition had proved right: one of the unusual gems sat upon a bedroom end table in the Jarl's room and I took it right from under her nose while she slept peacefully on.

Despite the risk, I had the most fun sneaking through the other palaces of the Jarls searching for these gems: Dragonsreach, the Palace of the Kings, Understone Keep, and the Blue Palace - locating my prizes among undergarments in dressers or displayed proudly on shelves. I even grabbed a coin purse or two on the way out.

Even the Treasury House in Markarth, the College of Winterhold, and the Black-Briar Lodge were searched, too. Much to my delight, I discovered three more gems which joined the others safely beneath the loose brick under my bed back at the Ratway.

After finding my tenth unusual gem, I sat on the wall surrounding Riften drinking some Skooma in celebration and looking out into the darkness, the weight of the very first unusual gem in my pocket motivating me to keep up the hunt.

Unfortunately, I had no idea where to search next.


	9. Chapter 9

The snow tumbled from the tree branch above me and onto my matted hair which had been plastered against my head by the sudden storm. I squinted into the dark and located a crumbling keep in the near distance.

 _Shelter._

I stepped out from under the branches and shivered as the swirling snow howled in my ears. Crouching down, I neared the structure and studied it carefully. Two bandits stared out into the cold and wet, guarding against trespassers like me.

Narrowing my eyes, I assessed the situation: was there another entrance? Could I somehow distract them? Was there another cave somewhere close - one without bandits? Where were those pesky dragons when you needed one?

 _It would have done me some good to have Rynjus by my side tonight,_ I thought. I'd have only to demand that he kill them all and he would have done it. With that massive warhammer of his, he would have sent every single one of those bandits flying while I was warming up by the fire, eating a hunk of venison from the spit and drinking some hot red wine.

But Rynjus wasn't here. There was only me to chase those bandits away.

I couldn't possibly take out both of those sturdy-looking bandits by myself, but I could trick them into leaving the front door unguarded for a moment or two - long enough for me to warm up and steal some food inside. I pulled out my bow and secured an arrow. Drawing back on the string, I let the arrow fly past the fort and into the darkness.

"Who's there?" asked the first one, abandoning his post and wandering behind the fort, axe at the ready.

"I know I heard someone," said the second, following his companion.

As quickly - and as quietly - as I could, I entered the fort, silently locking the door behind me, my ears straining in the darkness for footsteps or whispers.

Nothing.

I had been in Skyrim long enough to know that the bandits at the door wouldn't be the only two in the whole fort. There had to be at least several others nearby eating and drinking or warm and dry as they slept. The people here always traveled in packs, ready to shake up a traveller or farmer or other easy marks who'd be intimidated by a group of rough-looking thugs. Thieves and misfits in Cyrodiil always worked the city crowds alone and because the militia patrolled the trails from city to city, and it was much harder to steal from travellers in large groups.

My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten since early morning.

I surveyed the room, hoping for some apples in a barrel or a cabbage on the table in the corner.

Again, nothing.

A flight of stairs stood before me. There had to be something cooking upstairs. Perhaps some stew or a delicious vegetable soup. I was so hungry I'd even settle for horker stew, which I despised.

Keeping to the shadows, I ascended the stairs, my body shaking from my frozen clothes and my racing heart. Taking care to listen patiently, I checked the top room thoroughly.

Still nothing.

Even more perplexed at the absence of any activity here, I veered to the right and went through the first door I found, revealing a neatly organized room with a workbench and shelf. Along the wall opposite me sat an arcane enchanter and a roaring fire.

I crouched at the fireplace just long enough to warm my freezing hands, watching the door intently, waiting for someone to suddenly burst in. After several minutes, when it became apparent that no one was going to be knocking down the door to find me, I began to take in the details of the room, still keeping one eye on the entrance - just in case.

At first glance, I hadn't noticed the alchemy table near the door, nor the table sandwiched between it and the arcane enchanter. I hadn't noticed the baskets underneath the table, nor the papers piled on top of it.

And I certainly hadn't noticed the Stone of Barenziah in the corner of the table, shining dully in the dim light of the fire.

What luck to have found one here inside a random fort!

I snatched it up and deposited it into my pouch, a smile on my lips and contentment in my belly. I had eleven stones and the possibility of being discovered by bandits no longer concerned me.

As I hunkered down next to the fire, I reflected on this revelation: that the stones could also be in any of the hundreds - or thousands? - of abandoned caves and forts throughout Skyrim. This thought did not sit well with me, but I could not ignore that I was so close - so close! - to halfway.

My thoughts flitted to Rynjus for the second time that night.

 _Was it the Gods' will that I so happened upon this particular fort, like Rynjus would claim?_ I wondered. _Or was it only luck that guided me?_

Months later, I had become hopelessly discouraged. I had combed every single cave, every single fort that I had come across. The vast majority of them were nothing more than lairs for cave trolls or abandoned bandit hideouts - not worth my time since they only ever yielded a few septims.

One night, out of deference to Rynjus - wherever he was - I lit a candle to the Gods and to be thorough, I lit one to Nocturnal as well.

Within a week, I found one of the stones in the Dainty Sload, a ship moored outside of Solitude.

I lit another candle to the Gods and another for Nocturnal. This time I said a few hopeful words, too.

I searched more and more obscure places - Stony Creek Cave, Hob's Fall Cave, Reeking Cave, Pinewatch - and reaped several more stones as my reward. I no longer feared anything that crossed my path - angry bandits or trolls or hags or other foul things could not frighten me. Everything fell beneath my blade.

Within a few short weeks, I had renewed my commitment to find all of the Stones of Barenziah by the light of the candles in the Ragged Flagon.

I possessed sixteen unusual gems and however I wished to interpret my newfound luck, I could no longer deny that the Gods must be involved somehow.

I wondered what Rynjus would say at this unlikely turn of events. He had spoken quite highly of the Gods, but I had never been a believer. Now it seemed natural to admit that they had a hand in my recent luck.

I picked up a bottle of Skooma and a few cubes of Moon Sugar from the Khajiit caravan outside Whiterun to celebrate then hitched a ride back to Riften on the carriage. The driver glared at me as I popped the cubes into the Skooma and gave it a good shake before lifting the bottle in a toast and downing a good gulp.

It had been a year to the day since I arrived in Skyrim, a year since I had last seen Rynjus. I had expected that by now I would have forgotten the details of his face, his cool eyes, his soft voice, and his strong hands, but his memory had not faded.

 _Could I be sure that it ever would?_ I wondered, taking another swig from the bottle and feeling the weight of my very first unusual gem in my pocket.

Since that first little trinket I slipped into the folds of my dress back in Cyrodiil, never in my whole life had I wanted something more than those tiny pink jewels - except, perhaps, for Rynjus.

He was no longer just a warrior who would smite bandits or draugr or dragons to protect me, but a tender memory of my past. I found myself craving to share a bedroll with his warm body and listen to his soft voice say my name over and over again as he ran his fingers through my hair.

In spite of the loner I thought myself to be, I longed for his company.


	10. Chapter 10

Under the tutelage of Brynjolf, Vex, Delvin, and the others, my confidence had grown. I could be in plain sight and yet hide from anyone. I could sell a giant his own mammoth. I could take a necklace right from under a noble's nose. I could slash a man's throat before he even knew I was coming.

But for months - even with all of my skills, determination, assurance, and tenacity - I had still come up empty.

I still only had sixteen unusual gems.

Where were the last eight stones if they were not scattered throughout Skyrim's caves and forts?

I obsessed over that question - pondering over it while sitting in lengthy carriage rides across the country, staking out houses, drinking a pint at taverns in little towns - while my first unusual gem weighed down my tunic pocket, begging me to reunite it with the other gems.

I took fewer and fewer jobs, distancing myself from the others in the guild. I lit candles to the Gods and prayed endlessly to Nocturnal instead.

Eventually, at Brynjolf's insistence, I was assigned a simple job in Whiterun to clear my head. He did not say it directly, but I could tell that he worried about me. Begrudgingly, I agreed though the thief inside me craved a much larger prize with much bigger risks.

Brynjolf's job - steal an ornate horn from Amren's house - turned out to be child's play; just a little too simple, even for someone as distracted as me.

Quietly closing the front door, I crouched in the shadows on the stone porch and waited for a couple of guards to pass.

My gaze lazily followed their path down the street toward the Hall of the Dead.

 _The dead!_

I nearly stood up with this revelation, but managed to catch myself before doing something thoughtless and stupid.

 _Why had I not thought of that before?_ I wondered, sneaking to the entrance of the Hall of the Dead and pulling out a lockpick. _People send loved ones off with valuables all the time._

With hopeful, trembling fingers, I unlocked the grand doors and pushed them open just enough to squeeze through the crack and then close the door quietly behind me.

I fought hard not to cough at the thick, musty air that greeted me inside. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight and my heart pounded against my rib cage as I made my way down the stairs, hidden by the shadows. I had never ventured into a burial chamber before and my mind raced with the possibilities of what I might find: perhaps coins and jewelry to line my pockets? Or maybe skeevers and more sinister creatures?

Turning the corner, I listened carefully for voices or the shuffling of feet. Hearing nothing but a _creak - creak - creak_ up ahead, I stopped to retrieve my dagger from its holster at my left hip.

Leaving the safety of my cover, I sprung from the shadows and swiped at the empty air. I looked up, confused at not hitting a solid mark, and then released a startled shriek.

Two skeletons towered over me, their bones glistening white in the dull candlelight, their hollowed eye sockets glowing red, their teeth chattering at me incoherently. I slashed at them over and over again but continued to miss. They stepped closer and closer, arms raised and poised to grab me.

 _Where in Sovngarde do you hit a skeleton?_

Surely Rynjus would have known the answer to this riddle, but I could only back away, unsure of what a skeleton would even do to me if it caught me. Would it eat me? _Could_ it eat me? Or would I serve another disgusting purpose?

I bumped against a mummified body upon a shelf. Something shiny dislodged from the body's hand and fell to the ground but I ignored it. In any other circumstance, I would have bent down to pick it up and examine it, but now, I positioned my dagger in front of me, ready to strike again if need be.

The larger skeleton reached out and grabbed at my sleeve. With all of my might, I pushed his hand away and part of his arm flew off into a burial urn on the other side of the hall. The tiny bones of his hand scattered, disappearing into the darkness.

With a new determination, I lunged at the broken skeleton, hitting him with my fist and with the end of my dagger. His teeth snapped angrily at me, but I did not break contact. Pieces of his body fell apart and dropped to the stone floor, stirring up clouds of dust. The other skeleton reached for my neck, his grip cold and strong. I elbowed him off and concentrated on the other one, who was almost nothing but a skull and spine.

But the second pounced upon me, biting my shoulder and upper arm. I screamed in pain and threw the remainder of the first skeleton into his friend who immediately let go.

We circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. The blood from my bite wound trickled down my arm and dripped from my wrist, leaving a trail on the stone floor. The skeleton stared blankly at me, though I swear to the Gods there was an awful smugness about it.

He finally lunged at me and I pulled him in, ready to smash as many of his bones as I could with my bloodied arm. We tumbled to the floor, breaking a small burial urn. Plumes of ashes dusted the air. I coughed and my eyes watered as I blinked away the cremated remains, kicking the skeleton away, pushing him into the opposite wall and into a wall torch.

His scraps of clothing caught fire and he burned, screeching and howling until he was little more than a pile of bone meal.

I laughed, a hysterical, belly-shaking, fiery laugh. Tears streamed down my face, streaking my dirty cheeks. I wiped away my tears, forgetting about the blood on my hand. Taking several breaths to steady myself, I moved my wobbly legs underneath me and tried to stand.

A nearby gem caught my eye. I couldn't tell what exactly it was - only that it had a fine cut in the shape of a diamond. Judging by the color, a garnet, perhaps?

 _It must have fallen from that person's hand,_ I reasoned, but as I turned it over and over in my fingers and wiped the dust away, my smile grew ever wider.

Seventeen.

Here in this pit, I had found number seventeen.

I dragged myself out of the Hall of the Dead and aboard a carriage. The driver eyed me warily but allowed me peace when I tossed him a coin purse - enough for a ride back to Riften and a hefty bonus to keep his mouth shut.

For personal safety, I had always shied away from tombs and burial sites and though I did not relish the thought of tangling with more of the living dead, I would gladly do it if it meant that all twenty-four stones would be mine.

My spark had returned. Brynjolf assigned me task after task - the further from Riften the better - and I breezed through them all, always on the lookout for another ruin on the way which might contain an unusual gem.

During these cross-country excursions, I fought through hordes of skeletons and draugr and necromancers, clearing the secrets of the deep, dark depths of Sunderstone Gorge, Ansilvund, Yngvild, Rannveig's Fast. I hated the raw stench of the dead and their musty homes, hated the many new scars on my face, but I would not stop so close to my goal.

I even descended into the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary - invited, of course - and as I wandered the passageways, always in the shadows, I found another unusual gem tucked away in Astrid's room. Taking the utmost care not to arouse suspicion, I safely scooped up the gem. Astrid never noticed it was gone.

Twenty-two gems now sat beneath the loose brick in my corner of the Ratway and I celebrated by buying everyone in the Thieves Guild a drink.

While the others reminisced about past heists over bottles of ale, I sat alone at a table on the outskirts of the activity, toasting Nocturnal and the Gods for my good fortune.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been two years since I had washed up on Skyrim's shores, two years since I had made my way to Riften and joined the guild. Brynjolf had not forgotten the anniversary of my initiation, handing me Madesi's silver ring before I left for the day - the very one I had stolen for him in the Riften marketplace.

"You've earned it, lass," he said, smiling fondly.

I slipped the ring onto my finger and admired it. "It could use some diamonds," I said.

"Markarth first," Brynjolf chuckled as he slapped me on the back. "Then your diamonds."


	12. Chapter 12

On the carriage ride to Markarth, I twisted the ring on my finger over and over again - not out of nervousness, but out of mindless curiosity.

Out of the kindness of the Gods, I had survived two years in Skyrim.

Had Rynjus done so as well?

I sincerely hoped that he had. Skyrim was his home, after all. He probably knew every single secret of this country. How could a Nord like Rynjus be slain by anything other than Alduin himself?

 _Even then, he would put up a good fight,_ I thought absentmindedly, staring out at the mountains surrounding Markarth. I recognized the path. We were almost there. My fingers continued to spin the ring as I scanned the southwest mountains.

In the distance, I could see smoke coming from some kind of structure, a tower. It blended into the dark rocks so well that I had never noticed it before.

"What's that?" I asked the driver. He squinted to see what I was pointing to.

"That is Dead Crone Rock," the driver answered. He spat. "Forsworn territory. I wouldn't go out there for all the gold in the Treasury House."

I had no reason to venture there, no reason at all, but Nocturnal's voice seemed to be in the breeze, luring me there. I knew better than resist her.

I stood up and hopped off the carriage. The driver pulled his horse to a hasty stop.

"Some words of advice," he said. "Those Forsworn aren't like you and me. There's no telling what they might do to you."

Perhaps the driver was right. Perhaps it was too dangerous.

Then again, I had the blessings of Nocturnal and the Nine. With them on my side, the Forsworn could do nothing to me.

I gave him a confident half-smile and shrugged. "We'll see, won't we?"

The carriage driver flicked the reins and continued his journey to Markarth. I started up the mountain on a worn dirt path toward the tower.

It took me the better part of a day to get close and even then, I still couldn't get to their front door. Forsworn patrolled a large area around Dead Crone Rock and had plenty of tripwire traps and hanging bones to raise alarms against anyone who entered their territory uninvited. I crouched down behind a large boulder and studied the tower in the dusky light.

Two possibilities came to me: I could wait a couple more hours and sneak through all of the patrols to the tower's largest set of doors or I could try to climb the cliffs around the tower to find an alternate entrance since part of the structure seemed to be built into the mountainside.

The latter seemed the safer bet, so I retreated from the safety of the boulder and skirted around the Forsworn camp, leaving a significant buffer between myself and them, before climbing up the mountainside toward the tower.

Halfway up, the Forsworn began to shout at each other, so agitated that I feared that they had somehow seen me. I positioned myself in the shadow of a large outcropping and peeked out, holding my breath.

A towering, muscular bandit had entered Forsworn territory without apology, swinging his finely-crafted warhammer at the shamen and archers and looters who dared to keep him from making his way up the stairs to the tower. His white, bleach-bone armour shimmered in the moons' light with an unearthly quality. I rubbed my eyes in amazement. Was I looking at a spectre? Or an actual man?

Whatever he was, he was my opportunity, my much-needed distraction. He would take care of the Forsworn while I searched the tower high and low for the twenty-third unusual gem. As long as the Forsworn kept coming at him, I could avoid an entanglement with him myself - there was no way I could pierce his armour with my dagger and he was large enough to easily take me down with a flick of his smallest finger.

With the last of the Forsworn down, the giant disappeared into the tower. I dropped from the outcropping and followed closely behind him, always keeping to the shadows and a good distance away from him, just as Brynjolf had taught me.

Behind him, I could study the giant more carefully. He stood two heads taller than I, with dark locks of hair streaming down his back. His shoulders swaggered as he walked boldly through the tower, his weapon readied for another attack. His armoured body smelled sweetly of blood and iron and sweat and masculinity, the combination causing my heart to quiver and my hands to shake. I feared what he would do to me even more than I feared a Forsworn Briarheart.

He climbed staircases and wandered through halls. I followed dutifully behind him, taking cover when he engaged a Forsworn and then searching the body after the giant moved on. I peeked in baskets and rummaged through chests inside rooms and hallways that he passed by, hoping to find the unusual gem. I found a few coin purses and even a diamond for my ring, but Nocturnal had not yet graced me with my prize.

Eventually, the giant pushed open a set of large doors and stepped outside. I waited only a few impatient moments before also exiting into the night.

I found myself facing a set of rickety wooden stairs which lead to another stone outcropping. The giant was engrossed in battle with a filthy hagraven. I crouched in the darkness at the top of the stairs and waited. The hagraven hurled fireball after fireball at the giant, but he dodged every single one, his body surprisingly lithe for someone so massive. I almost wanted to cheer for him.

The hagraven was finally within his weapon's range and the giant swung at her but missed. She released another series of fireballs that the giant again dodged. They hit the stone altar instead, causing some of the flower petals and snowberries on top of it to ignite. The hagraven shrieked and threw herself at the giant, scratching and biting, while he blocked her with his warhammer.

I scanned the altar for anything valuable. The plants in the bowls atop the altar had turned to ash and a few other items had fallen from the impact of the hagraven's offensive spells - a dagger, a few linen scraps, a few embalming tools, and a small trinket that sparkled in the moons' light.

The gem.

 _The twenty-third unusual gem!_

Heedless of the danger around me, I crawled across the stone outcropping and grabbed the bright pink gem, savoring its feel just for a moment before placing it into my pouch. I positioned myself against the altar and glanced around the stone.

The hagraven laid motionless in a pool of black blood, her skull crushed in.

The giant was nowhere to be found.

I crouched there, cursing myself for losing sight of the giant and listening for heavy footsteps or creaking armour and wondering where he had gone.

I began to slip away from the altar when a strong arm caught the front of my leather breastplate and lifted me off the ground, my unsupported legs dangling. I struggled and kicked, but he held onto me too tightly.

"What are you doing here, thief?" His deep voice rumbled like thunder. He shook me with one powerful movement and my hood slipped off, revealing my face and causing sandy brown hair to tumble down my shoulders.

The giant sucked in his breath and relaxed his grip. I used the opportunity to pull out my dagger and slice the crack in his armour where the pieces met at his side. He dropped me and cried out in surprise, while I bolted for the staircase.

"Eira! Stop!" shouted the giant behind me.

Shocked that my own name had been called - shocked that this imposing giant of a man somehow _knew_ me - I stopped. Turning around ever so slowly, I watched as he cautiously made his way to me, hands raised in supplication, that he meant me no harm.

Then, standing no more than a few steps away from me, he lifted the helmet off his head and smiled faintly.

The giant had more scars than I remembered, including a fresh cut that ran diagonally across his nose. He had tied the bulk of his dark hair at his neck, with wayward strands framing his ruggedly tanned face. Two drops of sweat slid down his temple and met his neck. His dark eyes moistened with emotion.

"Rynjus?" I whispered incredulously. My guard instantly disappeared as my heart thudded heavily against my chest. I could not bring myself to look away from his beautiful face.

"Eira," he said again, now closing the short distance between us. My name had never sounded so good on another's tongue.

Rynjus dropped his helmet and pulled me close, holding so tightly onto me that I thought he would never let go.

As we walked back toward Markarth, Rynjus explained how he had been thrown from the ship during the storm and had washed up on the beach, stumbling upon the wreckage a day or so afterward. He had seen the dead bandit and had carefully retraced footprints - my footprints - up the beach and to Windhelm, where he finally lost my trail. He had asked everyone he saw about me, but few people remembered. With my tattered clothes and strange accent, most people had probably assumed that I was a poor servant or a beggar who had somehow hitched a ride on one of the ships from Cyrodiil. In a way, they were right about both things.

Rynjus had vowed not to let me go. Convinced that I was still alive, he decided he would search the whole of Skyrim until he found me. He had nothing, really, to even suggest that I was still alive, but he had convinced himself that I was out there and trusted the Gods to reunite us.

And now, two years later, they had.

"Eira," he said, holding tightly onto my hands. His cool eyes implored: _Stay with me._

By the Nines! How had I not seen it back in Cyrodiil? How had I completely missed the affection that I felt for him?

He brought one warm hand to my cheek and left it there, caressing the scar across my face with his thumb. I pressed my head against the comfort of his hand and he smiled.

"Come live with me," he said. "I have a house in Solitude."

 _Yes, Solitude,_ the thief inside me said. _Markets teeming with coin purses! The palace!_

"Of course!" I said, my eyes gleaming and my hands shaking with delight.

Then Rynjus bent down, meeting my excited gaze.

"Eira," he began heavily. "If you come live with me, I cannot allow you to do _this_ anymore." He pointed to my hip purse.

" _This_?" I questioned.

"I am the Thane of Solitude. I have obligations and responsibilities throughout Jarl Elisif's lands. My title would be able to keep you out of trouble for some time, but not forever."

"Then I won't get caught," I responded flippantly.

"Once, the people would forgive you; twice, they might allow you your life; but eventually you'd be kneeling on a platform next to a man who has an ax in his hands." Rynjus embraced me, and I melted into his hard body, smelling the sweat and campfire and blood on his skin.

"Please, Eira, _please_. Listen to me this time. I had never meant to return to Skyrim. But I am here now, with you. It was fated for me to come back just as the Gods have seen it fit to bring us back together."

I considered this carefully. If the Gods really and truly did have a hand in bringing us back together, was this an indication that I shouldn't be feeding the thief inside me?

My eye caught sight of Madesi's ring.

But what about Brynjolf? And Vex? And Delvin? What about Nocturnal?

Gingerly, I stepped away from him.

"I have to think about this," I said.

"What's there to think about?" Rynjus asked. "We're here together, thank the Gods!"

"You're asking a lot of me," I said coolly. "Have you ever considered that I have a life here I might be giving up?"

Rynjus frowned and reached for me, but I quickly stepped away.

"Give me until sundown. Please."

Reluctantly, he nodded.


	13. Chapter 13

When we finally reached the cobblestone path at daybreak, we separated. Having agreed to give me my space to think, Rynjus left me at the bridge just outside of Markarth while he continued on for a drink, a hot meal, and some rest.

I spent at least eight hours on the bridge, staring at the river and pondering my many choices, twisting Madesi's ring on my finger, the unusual gem heavy in my pouch.

It was almost sundown.

I had a responsibility, a duty to the guild. I had communed with Nocturnal. I had elevated myself through hard work and skill. I did not take this lightly.

But there was also Rynjus. For two years, I hoped more than anything to find him during my travels through Skyrim and now he was in Markarth, reunited with me, all thanks to the Gods.

Could I ignore the thief inside me? And if I could not, would I be able to curb the thief inside me?

Could I turn my back on the Gods after getting what I had desired most? Could I turn away from Rynjus, the one I had longed for?

Slowly, I slipped the ring off my finger and examined it.

Nocturnal had called me to Dead Crone Rock and I had found another Stone of Barenziah, but I was still one short. Who knew how long it would take to find the last one?

But thanks to the Gods, I had suddenly been reunited with Rynjus. I imagined the many long years we would have together in our big house in Solitude. We would plant a garden and sell the vegetables in the marketplace. We would adopt children together - a thought that I had never seriously entertained before. I could be happy with him, so truly happy - if only I stopped feeding the thief inside me.

If only I stopped my search for the last gem.

With resolve, I threw the ring into the water and walked to Markarth to find Rynjus, my love.


	14. Chapter 14

Proudspire Manor was a lovely home built of grey stone, perfectly nestled in the heart of Solitude, just a stone's throw from the soldier's training yard on one side and the Blue Palace on the other. My mouth twitched at the memory of sneaking through the place to find my sixth Stone of Barenziah, but I quickly pushed it away.

With a wide smile, Rynjus led me through his home, showing off the fine furnishings and the wall tapestries and the large rooms. I had nothing to store here, no personal belongings except for my dagger and the few trinkets I had taken from Dead Crone Rock - including the twenty-third Stone of Barenziah. Though unfortunate that I was unable to return to the Thieves Guild and gather up the things in my chest and beneath the brick under my bed, it no longer mattered to me.

I was home.

With an almost boyish grin, Rynjus took my hand and directed me up the stairs to the second floor. He threw open the doors to his bedroom.

I stepped inside and grinned at the simple furnishings and adornments, so like what I envisioned Rynjus to own. He caught my arm and pulled me into a close embrace. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.

"I can't believe you're here with me," he said, his arms wrapped tightly around me. His fingers lightly stroked my back. "I had always wished it were so."

"Me too," I said, squeezing him as I opened my eyes, my gaze resting on the dresser near the door.

On the top of that dresser, at the closest corner and just within an arm's length from my grasp, I spied a beautiful pink gem in a small gold box.

My fingers twitched with longing.


End file.
